


reincarnation: the scrambling of uchiha madara

by itachicoughs (falterth), painintheassnojutsu



Series: hair to the throne: a series of cracky events [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: (It Wasn't), Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Drama, M/M, Madara Gets Stuck in a Coma for Three Years Because His Hair Thought It Would Be a Good Idea, Mentions of Itachi's Ear Flap, Mikoto Puts Up Too Many Mirrors, Obito's Hair Was Unworthy, Pre-Canon, References to Uchiha Massacre, Typical Uchiha Vanity, Uchiha Obito Dies, egg, egg puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 14:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14935803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falterth/pseuds/itachicoughs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/painintheassnojutsu/pseuds/painintheassnojutsu
Summary: He comes across a boy one day, half-crushed by rock and suffering. Madara takes one look at him, and spits, “You are unworthy of the power of my magnificent mane of hair. Perish.”The boy perishes.He moves on, terrorizing village after village. Nobody is worthy. Everybody is a heathen. Nobody has hair that is capable of bearing the name of Uchiha Madara.





	reincarnation: the scrambling of uchiha madara

Madara is dying. This much he knows.

 

But he has a _mission_ to accomplish, peace to achieve, ideals to share—he cannot let himself go, cannot let his _spirit_ go. He knows that he could achieve eternal life with the power of his hair, but the cost would be too high. He cannot even think about . . . _the cost._ Because it is too high.

 

So he will reincarnate himself. But first—he must choose a successor.

 

He comes across a boy one day, half-crushed by rock and suffering. Madara takes one look at him, and spits, “You are _unworthy_ of the power of my magnificent mane of hair. Perish.”

 

The boy perishes.

 

He moves on, terrorizing village after village. Nobody is worthy. Everybody is a heathen. Nobody has hair that is capable of bearing the name of Uchiha Madara.

 

[ — ]

 

“Madara,” his hair whispers.

 

“Yes?” Madara responds. He has been faithful to his hair since day one.

 

“You must find him . . . ”

 

“I’ve been _looking,_ ” he says, frustrated. “I’ve looked for years! The only reason why I haven’t died is that I haven’t found a successor! What more could you _want_ from me? I’ve only ever made you proud.” Madara is on the verge of tears.

 

“I cannot tell you now,” his hair intones wisely. “But soon . . . first, you must create an evil organization to take over the world. Only then may we have enough power to see the Chosen One.”

 

Madara stands up, clenching his fist angrily but resignedly. “Fine. Fine. We’ll create this organization. But I will find my successor.”

 

“Maybe so,” his hair says.

 

Sometimes Madara resents his hair. Sometimes he feels like his hair is not as loyal to him as he to it. But it is the way of things; Madara could never overtake his hair, and he is reminded of the fact every single day.

 

“In any case,” his hair continues, “you should go get some sleep. I must go . . . replenish.”

 

His hair detaches itself from Madara’s scalp, heading down toward the river so that it can drink and hunt animals.

 

“Goodnight,” the newly bald Madara says to his hair.

 

[ — ]

 

His hair returns. “I know it!”

 

“What do you know?” Madara asks, lowering his head so that his hair can climb up onto his scalp.

 

“I know who the boy is!”

 

“ . . . Who?” Madara inquires. He is quite interested.

 

“Uchiha Sasuke.”

 

“An Uchiha,” Madara muses. “Good. Where may I find him?”

 

“He has not been born yet,” the hair answers, shifting so that it can tickle Madara’s chin.

 

“When will he be born?”

 

“In . . . in three years’ time,” his hair answers. “But I can sense a powerful destiny ahead. It is possible that I may have to—to battle. To battle with—wait! I can see it!”

 

“See what?” Madara asks urgently.

 

His hair writhes and thrashes in the dark. “Uchiha . . . Sasuke! Duck—duck butt!!! Yes. This is the thing I will battle. Madara—friend, enemy, servant—you have been loyal to me. But I may have to abandon you. You may have to live on without me. Are—are you strong enough?”

 

Madara reaches out and takes his hair off of his head, placing it on the rock throne that he’s just conjured up. “Hair-sama.”

 

“Yes?” the hair asks, and it sounds like it is on the verge of weeping.

 

“I am loyal; that much is true. I am not blinded, though, by this loyalty. I will serve you until my dying day, that much is true, but I will be able to serve you beyond yours. Worry not; if you should . . . **perish,** then I will carry on your mission. I will—I will negotiate with this . . . this _duck butt,_ and I will see your plans of world domination come to fruition,” Madara swears.

 

The national anthem plays in the background, and Madara’s hair really does weep this time. “Uchiha Madara . . . I love you. I am forever grateful to you for this. If I should perish whilst battling the prophesied duck butt, then you—you will negotiate with the duck butt? You will convince it to rest upon your head?”

 

“Even if it means condemning this prophecy child—this Uchiha Sasuke—to a life without hair . . . if it’s for you,” Madara promises, “then I will.”

 

[ — ]

 

Three years go by quickly because Madara’s hair puts him in a coma so that they can gather strength. Strength, and chakra.

 

The whole time, Madara dreams of a wedding that lasts for three long years. It is _glorious._

 

Then they wake up. They finally wake up, and it is the middle of the night, and all Madara’s muscles fucking atrophied so he’s weak and needs to walk using his hair for limbs.

 

“Do not worry, Madara. I will carry you to the ends of the universe, or just the ends of the hair,” his hair says. “While you were sleeping, I founded the Akatatatatatatatatatatatsuki, to be put in place as a test of strength for the duck butt.”

 

“Good,” Madara says. “Good.”

 

Madara doesn’t pay attention to the Akatatatatatatatatatatatsuki, so he lets them do whatever they want, but first he makes Konan become the leader and then she’s like Nah Dude, I’m Good because she wants to be able to do other things than managing the entire criminal organization called Akatatatatatatatatatatatsuki.

 

And Madara can get behind that.

 

[ — ]

 

Madara tries to climb into the duck-butt child’s window. His hair is occupied with picking the lock, so when the window opens he is so weak that he falls onto the floor and would have broken his neck if not for the intervention of his lovely and astounding hair which is luscious and flowing.

 

His hair detaches itself from his head again.

 

Madara peers warily into baby Sasuke’s crib.

 

What an _evil_ being, Madara thinks, but he _must_ steal the child's power. So he stands—never mind, he stays on the ground because he has no muscles (how did he even peer into the crib? . . . that is a question that he will not dwell on), while his gorgeous hair elegantly flows closer to the crib, and suddenly— _su_ _ddenly—_

 

The child's hair removes itself from the child head and begins to glow a bright, yet dark, red. Almost like the sharingan, really.

 

Anyway, the hair, the duckbutt hair, speaks, in a loud, booming, deep voice, “What is it that you seek?”

 

Madara’s hair scoffs. “Your _death_.”

 

And so they clash in a battle of extreme lusciousness, and Madara's hair perishes.

 

(“MADARA!” his hair had shouted, locks intertwined with the unholy fiend that is the duck butt. “GO ON WITHOUT ME! YOU MUST . . . YOU MUST!”

 

“Hair-sama,” Madara had wailed. “No! Please don’t go . . . I love you so much. You are the light of my life.”

 

“But you promised,” his hair had roared mightily. “Promised to go on without me!”

 

The duck butt hair had laughed viciously. “When I become stronger, I will rule the world. I will lay **_oceans_ ** of duck butt eggs, and nobody will be able to escape my wrath. You think you could absorb my power? Well I will absorb YOURS.”

 

His hair had growled furiously. “I’m not done yet! Madara-chan! Aid me!”

 

Madara had tried to call up his chakra, but— “I cannot aid you, Hair-sama! I profusely apologize, but being in a coma for three years really fucked up my chakra system. Sorry bro.”

 

Duck butt had laughed again. “Well, _Hair-sama . . ._ ducks to be you.”

 

Madara’s hair had wailed, and then with a final pulse of chakra, had died with a blinding light like a supernova.

 

Duck butt hadn’t even broken a sweat. The luscious duck butt had stared at the pitiful, limp body of Madara’s hair. It probably hadn’t even been a challenge. “That was over easy.”)

 

“No, no, _no . . ._ ” Madara cries, back in the present in case you hadn’t noticed.

 

In an impossible show of strength, he weakly pounds a fist onto the soft carpet floor. He wishes that he could destroy this whole house. His _hair._

 

The duckbutt hair turns to him, questioningly. “And you, what is it that you seek?”

 

“ _Power_ ,” Madara says, and the draft from the open window feels so cold on his bald, hairless head. He doesn’t feel so luscious right now. The national anthem plays again.

 

The hair scoffs yet again, says no, and reattaches itself to the baby, who is sleeping peacefully.

 

Madara silently curses him.

 

Madara sits up, with the help of the wall behind him, and looks through the bars of the baby's crib. A weary resignation settles in his bones. “Sasuke,” he says, and it hurts him to say this but his life is forfeit, “be strong.”

 

And then he collapses to the ground, in an overly luxurious fashion, and dies.

 

[ — ]

 

Itachi backpedals from the gap in the door, shaking with fear. There—there is something in his brother’s room.

 

At first, he’d been hanging outside his baby brother’s room like some creepy little fucker, and then he’d seen a big shadow slink through the window. An old, decrepit man had almost fallen and broken his neck.

 

Itachi draws closer to the door again so that he can be nosy and look at whatever’s happening. The shadow, which Itachi identifies as hair, comforts the old man. “Madara-chan,” the hair whines, “be more careful next time!”

 

“Yes, Hair-sama,” Madara says respectfully.

 

Madara?

 

Uchiha Madara?

 

Uchiha . . . Itachi scowls. He’s always known that his clan is depraved. Utterly mad, and here is the proof. Uchiha Madara, one of the founders of Konoha—a baby snatcher!?!?!?!?

 

A SASUKE snatcher.

 

“Don’t worry, my fursona,” Itachi says. “I shall protect you.”

 

“Don’t worry, foolish little brother,” Itachi says madly. “I shall protect you from the senile old fool who thinks he can kidnap you.”

 

Madara looks into Sasuke’s crib, and a lot of shit happens that ends in Madara’s hair dying.

 

Itachi watches this whole exchange with absolute disgust writ across his face. Is _this_ what the Uchiha really are? Is this what they are meant for? Suddenly, Itachi isn’t a pacifist anymore.

 

One day, when he is strong enough, he will kill this clan and END its madness.

 

Except for Sasuke, of course. Itachi smiles proudly. His foolish little brother had fended off Madara’s hair all by himself! He will tell this tale for decades.

 

But he will exterminate the Uchiha clan first. He must, so that his brother will be protected. And he will leave Sasuke alive so that his baby brother’s duck butt can grow strong. But—but he will have to prepare for the eventuality that he will have a duck butt.

 

Itachi performs emergency surgery on himself out in the hallway, splitting his ear flap open and making a pocket in there. He cauterizes the wound and steals a mirror off of the hallway wall because there are hundreds of mirrors in this house, which only further attests to the insanity of the Uchiha clan, and nobody will miss them anyway so it’s perfectly fine. He puts the mirror in his ear flap, vows one last time to kill everyone when the time is right, and slinks into the shadows.

 

(A glance behind him reveals his mother looming in the other shadows of the hallway. But Itachi is stupid and ignores it.)

 

[ — ]

 

Mikoto gracefully enters her youngest son's room, a frown marring her lovely features.

 

She could've sworn there was music . . .

 

She looks at the ground with a sigh. “Madara-sama . . . ” she mumbles, kicking his head lightly. It completely flies off his body and blood splatters everywhere. Fucking R.I.P.

 

She turns her eyes to a white lump sitting beside him. “And his hair.”

 

What the fuck is Madara in her son's room for? And he's _dead_. She wrinkles her nose in disgust.

 

Guess she better get to cleaning and burning the body, hm?

 

But first . . . she awakens her hair kekkei genkai that came from none other than Uchiha Madara himself, and is even rarer than the Sharingan. She absorbs the hair and its life force, and then turns to look at her luscious son, Sasuke.

 

“Sasuke,” Mikoto says lovingly. “You fought off Madara-sama all by yourself. And Madara’s Hair-sama. You—you deserve this.”

 

Her hair glows red and connects itself to Sasuke’s hair. Her own kekkei genkai flows into him, tripling Sasuke’s hair’s power. Now, Madara-sama’s hair will live on in Sasuke. It will be reincarnated in Sasuke’s hair.

 

She nods, satisfied with the work she has done, and then thinks to her son Itachi. Fugaku thinks he is powerful . . . hahahaha. Foolish husband. Itachi has always been a failure, good for nothing except putting mirrors in his ear flaps. And did he really think that Mikoto would not notice the missing mirror?

 

She hung them up herself.

 

What a failure of a son. It becomes harder to live every day knowing that Itachi will never awaken his hair.

 

She looks forward to the day when he will kill her.

**Author's Note:**

> backstory - 
> 
> madara had a jutsu gone wrong and accidentally made his hair sentient. his hair, sensing that it would one day have a greater purpose, laid dormant for years. this was the birth of a very rare and powerful bloodline limit. when madara did shit and met zetsu, zetsu saw the sentient hair and decided "hey you know what? it would be a good idea to impersonate this hair."
> 
> the hair awoke. it sensed that someone was disturbing its precious and LUSCIOUS owner's peace. so it, along with the years' worth of chakra it had accumulated, struck at zetsu, and killed it. madara, who had not known about his hair's sentience, proceeded to IMMEDIATELY fall in love with it. and freak the fuck out. they were married in the fall. it was a nice quiet ceremony and they killed the priest afterwards. after all they are evil and primordial so it would not do for them to have any witnesses.
> 
> obito was not strong enough for the hair, so he was killed immediately. no mercy.
> 
> the end.
> 
> (we're living it up in [gama-chan party](https://discord.gg/g25p3S3), discord server run by yours truly.)


End file.
